Into Hell, Sir
by svvanmills
Summary: RoyAi onshot! Rizacentral. T for cursing.


**Hey, y'all! Here's a new story, which I hope is longer than ever! XD I tried hard on making it like Riza, but tell me if I did a well writing of her characterization or not. I'd like to know! :)**

**Disclaimer: If **_**I**_** owned FMA, Roy and Riza would be married and at least have one kid by know. So no, I don't own it. **

She walked into the graveyard, looking for a certain stone in the many rows. She saw it almost instantly. It was bigger than most, and had a couple of lilies laid on the ground.

He had loved lilies.

She got down on her knees and stared at the slab of stone for a moment, absorbing it in. She traced the newly carved letters.

_Roy Mustang_

_General_

_1885 - 1920_

Who would have though that the great Flame Alchemist would die? She, above all, hadn't. She knew him like the back of her hand, she had known him since he was 13.

"_Who... Who are you?"_

"_Roy Mustang, I'm going to be training under Master Hawkeye. You must be his daughter, Elizabeth. It's a pleasure to meet you."_

She said she would follow him into Hell, and she meant every word. She had done everything for him. Joining the military, fighting in the war. It's not to say she threw her life away, she didn't hate herself for making the decisions she did. But she made them with him in mind. He was gone, and wouldn't be coming back.

Died of a heart attack. He had been in so many fights, he had gotten so many fatal injuries, and he died from heart failure. She wondered if Roy would approve of dying like this. Dying out of battle. Would he? It didn't matter. He was still dead.

So close to the goal, too, of being Furher. She had followed him the entire time, and here he was, six feet under. She was a Colonel now, for who knows why. Everyone said she deserved it. Would Roy be proud of her? It was all she could think of... that gravestone.

But why? Why was she only thinking about him, when he wasn't even here? They were just business partners! ... Had they been more? Had she been _in love_ with Roy Mustang? It wasn't impossible. It was possible...

Why was she even thinking of this? He had been a womanizer... Had been... Goodness, what was happening to her? Maybe she was in love. Yes, she was. But who to tell? Certainly not the corpse. Dead bodies can't hear.

Corpses. Something she knew all too well. Even if she couldn't remember where she had left her clip the night before, she could remember murdering those people like a vivid dream repeating itself. She could even remember the smell of smoke and burning flesh, and the sounds of screaming children. That place had certainly been a hellhole. She had done it for Roy, though. It sounded weird, but it was true. She didn't hate herself for slaying the people, but she did hate it. It was horrible.

It had opened new gateways, though. It had made her wiser, made her realize how fragile a life can really be. Roy had done so many things for her, and he didn't even know.

She missed him a lot, even if she wouldn't admit it. She even missed having to pick him up from the bar, drunk and insisting on driving the lady home. He had still been alive then, no matter how annoying it was. When he wouldn't get his paperwork done, fixing mistakes he didn't even know he made, when he slipped his hand to her waist while walking in the halls, damn, she missed risking her life beside him, being the one he could turn to if he needed help defeating the enemy.

What was she to do know? It had only been a week after the funeral, and she felt like she had nothing more in her life. The last fifteen years had been built up on the foundation that Roy would become Furher. She hadn't really done anything for herself. Of course, she had a small apartment, friends, a loyal dog, but it didn't have the spark that it had when Roy was here.

She pulled out a small, pocket sized revolver as the thoughts were whirring in her head. Would she do it? Would she give her life away, all because of this man? She did love him... but would he approve of it? Maybe that was the question. Being the question or not, she would never know the answer. He was dead. Only in her fantasies had the monitor gone from the droning moan to a steady beat. It couldn't happen in real life. It wouldn't.

But still, all she could do was stare at the gun that was in her hands and think. Think about memories, think about friends, about the war, but most of all, about Roy. She _did_ love him, ever since that day when he knocked on the door, demanding to be taught alchemy. She could even recall the determined looks in his eyes. He wouldn't take no for an answer.

She remembered how nice to her he was, how he wasn't at all like she'd assumed, and nothing like her father. He had eaten meals with her, walked her to school, walked her back home. She would feel special for the the first time, in a long time, when she was with him.

Everything came rushing back to her, and still she stared at that gun. The gun that was in her hands, the gun that would determine if she were to die or to live. She rotated it in her hand, feeling all of the bumps and ridges of it. She realized it had been her first gun, the gun that Roy had given her, saying "Here. Protect yourself with it."

Would he had given her the gun if he could see her right now, wondering if she should kill herself? Would he had given her the gun if he knew she would learn to have natural skills and join the military, if she would go into the war as a sniper?

_The thick sand colored coat whipped in the air as the gales of Ishval shoved sand in her direction. She pulled her hood closer to her eyes and shot another man. She knew what she had just done, yet she didn't know whether to regret it or not. She heard a whistle and realized it was time to go to the bunks, even though the sun was still in the sky, not even close to setting. She stood up and walked slowly to her bunk, whispers around her. They all knew she was the Hawk's Eye, one of the bet snipers in the league. She coughed as desert sand went into her face, and looked down and rubbed her eyes. She took another step and immediately fell down to the ground, having bumped into a man._

"_Sorry." A hand went into view and she grasped it, standing up._

"_Thank you..." she look up to see a man she recognized. Roy Mustang, also known as the famous Flame Alchemist._

_His eyes widened and his expression blank. "... Elizabeth?"_

"_Mister Mustang."_

She grasped the gun tighter, her knuckles becoming pale. Would she do it? Could she do it? What about Havoc, and Fuery, Falman, Breda? Rebecca, Armstrong, Black Hayate? Maria Ross, Denny Brosch, her grandfather? Images of close friends and colleagues came into her mind.

It didn't matter. She could remember saying "Even into Hell, sir," like it was yesterday. And Roy surely wasn't in heaven.

She took one last look at the gravestone, put the pistol to her head, and pulled the trigger.

And like the rumors around Ishval would say, she never missed.

**Yes, pretty depressing, but I was in a mood for writing such a sad story. Hope you like! Review, critic, flame, I really don't care! Well, except maybe the flaming part... But still!**


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